Faolan isn't certain what to make of her reaction. Has she heard of him after all, perhaps? He opens his mouth to ask as much, or maybe something else along those lines, he's not exactly sure what, but then it comes over him.

The feel of scales against skin, sliding, scraping against him, smooth and warm, and Faolan's not sure whether they're real or imagined as he stands there dumbfounded holding her hand. There are other things too though. Sunlight, like he gets from Lancelot. Fae, she must be. Seelie, from the sunlight, but also. More, different. She is different, she is. Overwhelming, and Faolan is having a hard time determining for a moment what's real and what he is picking up with other senses.

He takes a careful step back before he embarrasses himself further. "A delight...?" He asks, carefully. Hoping he has not just made a fool of himself.